From the Outside
by Rita C
Summary: Five prompts, five days, five stories. Romanogers Week 2018.
1. Run Away With Me

**Disclaimer:** Marvel owns everything except the mistakes, so I'd take it as a personal favour if you didn't sue me. There's also a direct quote from an episode of 'The Pretender' - bonus points if you find it.

Day 1: _Run away with me_

(First part – post AoU; second and third part - post CACW)

"So how are you?"

Natasha kept her eyes on her tea mug, only allowing a small smile to lift up the corners of her mouth. Laura Barton was one of very few people on this planet that was able to sneak up on her. Or maybe that was just a testament to her state of mind.

"Fine."

Laura entered the kitchen and busied herself with pouring a steaming mug of tea, before sitting down in front of Natasha. Her face was smiling even though her eyes were serious as she looked at her. Natasha took that as her cue to elaborate.

"Everyone's settling down easy enough. We've been putting the new recruits through some rough training. We're still tweaking the new installations a bit, so they're up to our liking…" Laura's soft smile stopped her. "What?"

"I wasn't asking about work and you know it. How are you?"

Natasha allowed herself a soft sigh before taking a sip of her tea, trying to collect her thoughts. She knew what Laura was asking, of course, but it was hard to talk about it when she wasn't sure herself about what her feelings were on the matter.

"I'm… if I say I'm fine will you drop it?"

Laura shook her head softly before answering. "Clint may let you fly by with that…"

"He doesn't."

"Good. That means there's still hope for him." Both women shared a laugh before Laura reached across the table to grasp Natasha's hand. "How are you feeling about things with Bruce?"

Natasha sighed once again. She and Laura may have known each other for years but she was still uncomfortable with this conversation. She wondered, not for the first time, if this 'girl talk' stuff was always this awkward or if that was purely on her. "He asked me to run away with him." She smirked with satisfaction as she felt Laura startle a bit at that.

"I didn't know things had gone that far." She squeezed her hand reassuringly. "That has to mean something though, right? That he just needs a little bit of time. That he'll come back."

"I told him no." Natasha squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, remembering the whole conversation. "Not in so many words but… the message got through, I think." She opened her eyes again, seeing Laura looking back at her deep in thought.

"Why? You obviously like him, why did you turn him down?"

Natasha took another, longer, sip pf her tea. She had been playing with that question for days now, not content with any of the answers so far. Still, she decided to try them on again. Maybe an outside opinion was just what the doctor ordered.

"I couldn't. I couldn't walk away from everything. I couldn't… leave them behind to fend for themselves." She looked straight into Laura's eyes, gauging her reaction. "The timing was all off, I guess."

There was a moment of silence, one that Natasha was sure would stretch on, as they both pondered on the what-ifs of life and choices, but she should have known better. Laura Barton was nothing if not direct. "I call bullshit."

Natasha was sure the surprise registered on her face as clear as day. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry sweetie, but I call it like I see it and that's nothing but a bunch of bullshit." Laura stood up to grab the kettle, refilling Natasha's cup before settling back down.

"I think you're spending way too much time with Clint." The smirk on Natasha's face was perfectly mirrored by Laura.

"Oh please. The word may be more to his liking, but the sentiment is all mine." Grabbing Natasha's hands again, she soldiered on. "There is no right timing. There are no perfect circumstances. When something like that comes up, either you want it or you don't."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is." She sighed before looking back at Natasha. "Look Tasha, I know you never had it easy. I know this looks and feels a lot more complicated to you than it does to most other people but… just ask yourself this. If the circumstances had been different, would you have left everything behind to go with him?"

This time the silence did stretch on. Laura quietly finished her tea before getting up towards the sink to rinse her mug. Her whisper was so quiet the spy almost missed it. "There's your answer."

Natasha tried to casually shrug – a move she was sure she was failing like a pro – before replying. "I always said love is for children."

"Maybe you're right." There was a hint of a smile dancing in Laura's eyes. "Or maybe the problem wasn't the situation but the one asking."

To her credit, Natasha stood perfectly still as the words hit her, even though her eyes narrowed. She knew Laura – and that smile - way too well to know that didn't sound like a casual you'll-find-the-right-guy-eventually remark. She only had to wait a second.

"If… or perhaps…"

"Spill it Laura. I'm sure your husband won't be too happy if I have to beat it out of you."

Laura just casually waved a hand, completely dismissing the assassin's threat. "I was just wondering if your answer would still have been the same if it was Steve doing the asking." She walked back to the kitchen table and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Natasha's head, completely ignoring the stunned look on her face. As she reached the door, she turned around to give her friend a gentle look.

"Just think about it ok?"

A different day, a different kitchen, and Natasha and Laura were once again sitting at the table with mugs. Both had ditched the tea this time though, switching it up to strong coffee with some drops of whatever alcohol was in the bottle Natasha had found inside one of the cupboards. The fallout of the Sokovia Accords had left Clint in a prison and Natasha a fugitive, leading to their current situation – the Barton kids asleep in a bed that wasn't theirs, as both their mother and Auntie Nat had quickly and efficiently relocated the whole family to one of Clint's safehouses. The conversation between the two had been scarce, both of them too exhausted and too acutely aware that, come morning, Natasha would have to leave to make sure they remained safe, leaving Laura to fend for herself.

Which is why to say that Natasha was surprised when Laura started talking was an understatement. And even more so at the content of said conversation.

"I still don't understand why you're here."

Natasha couldn't help it as one of her eyebrows shot up. This was easy, being friends with Laura, and if she was honest with herself it always had been. It was why she was so comfortable just reacting to the other woman instead of checking every little tell, trying not to give anything away. Of course, it was also why Laura Barton could read her like a book – a foreign language book, no doubt, but still. Sometimes being friends with her was a bitch.

"I'm here to help you. But if you'd rather have me gone…"

"Don't be stupid. You know that's not what I meant."

And here we go again, Natasha thought. Girl talk. Goddamit, sometimes she just wished she would have kept Laura Barton at a distance and never become close with the woman. She could be just as infuriating as her husband, although, to his credit and Natasha's never ending surprise, Clint knew when he should just leave well enough alone. Laura had obviously skipped those classes.

"I don't understand what happened in Germany."

She squared her shoulders. "I told you what happened in Germany. Every single detail. Over and over." Natasha sighed out of sheer exhaustion. "I don't know what else to tell you."

"You told me but you didn't tell me." Laura was staring intently at her and Natasha couldn't help it, another eyebrow went up. God, she had to stop doing that.

"Is that supposed to make any sense?"

Laura finished her coffee and stood up, taking both mugs with her to the sink. As she returned to the table, Natasha noticed she had brought the bottle with her and was taking a healthy swig directly from it.

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I'm not sure getting drunk would be the wisest course of action right now."

Laura shrugged before passing her the bottle. "I'm not aiming for drunk but I think we both deserve a little something right now."

Natasha gingerly accepted the bottle. "Can't argue with that."

Laura was still watching her with what Natasha normally referred to as her mom look. "Germany."

"It's a country in Europe."

The quick reply was dripping with sarcasm. "Cute. Not funny but cute." Laura leaned across the table, retrieving the bottle. "You were on Tony's side. You were the only thing standing between Steve and a clean getaway."

Despite the alcohol and the weariness in her bones, Natasha was still able to muster up an indignant face. "Hey, I was never on Tony's side."

Laura ignored the remark. There was a point to be made here, and if Natasha refused to acknowledge it then she would just have to shove it in her face. "Course not. Because when push came to shove, you chose Steve's side." She leaned back in her chair, allowing the silence to stretch on for a few moments before continuing. "Which brings us right back to my earlier question. Why are you here? You knew what would happen when you made that call. You knew they'd come for you. Why didn't you go with him?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Laura regretted them, as she saw Natasha's shoulders sag slightly and her eyes dart nervously around the dingy kitchen. Vulnerable was not a word one would use to describe Natasha Romanoff but, at that moment, it was the only one at the forefront of Laura's mind. Her mind wandered to a different conversation, years ago, and she steeled herself for the answer she knew was coming.

"He didn't ask."

She loved Africa.

Maybe it was the heat, unbearable and unforgiving, beating down on her skin and giving it a nice warm glow. Growing up in Russia, God knows she had enough of the cold to last her for the rest of her life. Kenya was probably the most bizarre of all places for her to hide in, which made it absolutely perfect. Who would think to look for a redhead here?

Not that she was still a redhead but still.

She kept her pace relaxed as she watched the rapidly falling twilight. It would be completely dark within the few minutes that would take her to reach her place, a non-descript house in a non-descript neighborhood, where the people were nice and friendly and kept mostly to themselves.

As she approached her front yard, Natasha suddenly stopped. Everything seemed exactly as she had left it, down to the tiny piece of string still hanging from the gate, showing it hadn't been opened – sometimes the basic tricks were still the best. Still, there was definitely something… off. Maybe it was just a gut reaction.

Or maybe it was the inkling of a shadow by the side of her porch, one that she noticed immediately as she let her eyes do a quick sweep of the place. One that hadn't been there before. One that she recognized instantly, even as she berated herself for doing so.

She kept her voice deliberately low, knowing that he could hear her just the same. "Stealth isn't really your thing."

The shadow moved slightly, before shaking somewhat. Was he laughing? He better not be laughing.

His voice was only slightly higher than hers when he answered. "You're a hard woman to find."

"You should see me when I'm really trying." She could sense he was about to quip back so she raised a hand to stop him. She could see out of the corner of her eye as his shadow moved slightly back as she turned around to greet the couple arriving next door, before slowly making her way across the yard and into the house. It took a mere second before she heard the door closing behind her.

He looked around for a moment, letting the strangeness of the moment ebb by, if only a little. "This is… nice."

She turned around, giving him a thorough look before answering. "I'm trying out life as an interior decorator."

He smiled, that warm boyish smile before taking a step towards her. He seemed to hesitate just for a second before wrapping his arms around her. "The world will never know its own loss."

She laughed before taking a small step back. "How have you been soldier?"

"Good. Surprisingly, given the circumstances but…"

"You look good. I like the beard. Very manly." She couldn't help the teasing tone in her voice, and was rewarded when he self-consciently rubbed a hand across his beard before sitting down. He didn't blush though. Apparently, America's Golden Boy was finally learning how to take a compliment.

"Yeah, thanks. Noticed you're not a redhead anymore."

"It's harder to notice a brunette when all you're looking for is red hair. Have you learned nothing from me?" She had missed this, the easy bantering that came between them, even under the direst of circumstances. It was familiar, in a way she was beginning to fear she had lost for good. "Well, you obviously didn't. Took you long enough to find me, even with all the hints I've been sending your way."

He shrugged casually. "Yeah, I did sort of wander how was it that I was able to find you. So you knew where we were all along?" She arched an eyebrow at him and he nodded. "Of course you did." He leaned back against the couch, draping an arm over the back of it, looking more relaxed than either of them had the right to in the situation.

"I was beginning to think that I'd have to come to you instead."

"So why didn't you?" For all his relaxed posture, his voice was serious, his blue eyes burning into hers and she almost flinched at the sudden change in mood.

"I didn't think I'd be very welcome in Wakanda." He kept looking at her, that same intensity in his gaze. She could see he wasn't entirely buying it, calling her out on it without actually saying anything. Maybe he had learned something from her after all. She decided to try something closer to the truth. "I didn't know how welcoming everyone would be."

He was out of the couch and standing right in front of her before she could think about it. "Don't. Just… don't." His voice was strained and his face was stone hard. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You know you're always welcome. You'll always have a place with me."

She could feel a soft smile grazing her lips. It was a slip of the tongue, or maybe not. Either way, the hope it filled her with was real. "So what exactly brings you here Steve?"

He seemed surprised for a moment at the question, although he didn't shy away from it. "Well… I was wandering – well sort of hoping actually…." His gaze dropped down to his feet momentarily before meeting her eyes again. "I was kind of hoping that I'd be picking you up."

A flirtatious smirk graced her features almost instantly. "Picking me up soldier? What do you have in mind?" She watched with a strange sort of glee as he rubbed the back of his neck and couldn't help a small laugh when a faint blush colored his cheeks. There it was. She still had it.

"What I meant was…" He shook his head before giving her a shy, embarrassed little smile. "You know what I meant."

"Are you asking me to run away with you?" The flirtatious tone was definitely still there, even if she could tell it was joined by something else entirely. Something that felt and sounded a lot like happiness. She wandered if he could hear it too.

He let out a startled laugh at her choice of words, before letting it turn into a slow smile, one that was bright and warming and inviting. One that was entirely seductive. He reached a hand out towards her. "Will you? Run away with me?"

She didn't hesitate before taking his hand. She knew the answer to that.

"Yeah." She shrugged casually. "It'll be fun."


	2. You Are The Only Thing I Think About

Day 2: _You are the only thing I think about at night_

(Post CATWS, after Natasha leaves and Steve and Sam are looking for Bucky)

Steve expects there will be nightmares.

Seeing Bucky again, after spending so much time believing him to be dead – believing _he let him_ die – he expects his mind to come up with some pretty fucked up scenarios to torture himself with. Part of him even craves it, if he's honest. He's been blaming himself for this for so long that the guilt is pretty much a part of him now. And now that he knows what has been done to his best friend, well… he supposes night terrors are only a small part of what he deserves.

What he really fears though, is that he knows that these nightmares about Bucky will only be the beginning of a downward spiral. That once his mind starts down that path, it will only be a matter of time before everything else starts dredging its way up.

He expects there will be dreams about Peggy and the life he never got to share with her. He knows there will be dreams about the war, and he dreads the notion that his unconscious will drag up the horrible memories he has and twist them around to create something even worse. He almost hopes for the dreams about home and the way the world used to be, before he blinked and everything morphed into this strange and still confusing place it is now. Most of all, he fears dreaming about the ice.

Steve never expected to dream about Natasha.

The dreams always start out pretty normal, mostly memories of SHIELD missions done together or the quest to bring it down, once they figured out its true nature. But they never stay that way.

All too soon, they morph and twist into horrible variations of what really went down and he sees himself carrying her lifeless body out of the wrecks of Camp Leigh, desperately trying to revive her. He feels anxious as he watches a terrorist shoot her in the chest instead of her leg, feels the rage when he can't get to her and has to watch from afar as she slowly stops breathing. He feels the helplessness as she slowly bleeds to death inside that truck, after their run in with Bucky, after he fails to notice his best friend has shot her yet again.

He dreams about knives and guns and explosions, about screams and painful gasps. It's pain and blood and death and every horrible thing he has known his entire life, all connected to her. Every night he wakes up gasping for breath and covered in sweat, his heart squeezing in his chest.

He has lost count of all the ways and all the times he has had to watch her die.

He has tried – and failed – to change the pattern. Exercise is supposed to be good for you, one of its bigger benefits being that it helps you sleep. So Steve throws himself into that, pounding away at boxing bags that are no match for a super soldier, pulverizing several of them in the hopes that his exhausted body will drag his stubborn mind with it. He only wants one night of sleep without being haunted by her lifeless eyes.

It works both too well and not well enough. His body is relaxed and dead to the world as soon as it hits the bed, but that leaves his traitorous mind free to wander to places his conscience would never allow it.

Her green eyes still haunt him but now they sparkle full of life and mischief as she laughs and teases him about blushing, after all the things they have done together and all the things they both still want to do to each other. His arms no longer hold her dead body, instead they hold her against his own, using the closeness to kiss every inch of exposed skin. His hands aren't trying to stop the flow of her blood, yet they map out her body with a confidence born only out of familiarity. Her voice still sounds in his ears, but it is not pain that makes her scream, only ecstasy. His name still comes out of her mouth, but it's not his help she seeks, only his touch.

Every night he wraps himself around her, close enough that their breaths mingle and their skin touches and everything else in between is melted together.

He still wakes up every night gasping for breath and covered in sweat, his heart squeezing in his chest. Only now it's for an entirely different reason.

It's obvious he needs to try something new, something _different_, if he's ever to have a chance at sleeping a full night again. Tiring his body hadn't worked – he ignores the stupid voice in the back of his mind telling him differently – so he tries tiring his mind instead, and turns to drawing. He even goes out and buys himself a new sketch book and some new pencils. Whatever it takes, right?

As it turns out, that was wrong. Because pretty soon after he begins his first sketch, he realizes he's sketching her. He quickly turns to a different page, lets his mind start to wander, and begins again. Skylines and streets and cars make their way onto the page but he can't say he's completely surprised when he realizes that she's there as well, right in the middle of the page, wearing her catsuit and cautiously looking around as he had seen her do so many times.

The next attempt turns out similar - a small hand that connects to a strong arm that connects to a pretty face with bright red hair and shinning green eyes. At some point he stops trying to fight it and instead loses himself in drawing her, alternating from familiar scenes of their times together to the stuff he has only seen in his dreams.

He doesn't wake up gasping and panting, but he's pretty sure that's only because he barely sleeps more than an hour each night.

"Hey man! What up?" Sam's voice is loud as he barges into the room, a folded piece of paper clutched in the hand he's waving around, as he lets his eyes sweep the room. "What happened here?"

Steve looks from across the kitchen where he's cooking breakfast. The place isn't dirty or in disarray so he wanders a bit about Sam's comment, when his eyes land on the sketch book and pencils strewn all over the coffee table. "Yeah, sorry about that. Didn't get around to putting that away yet."

Sam is looking at the coffee table with a look that seems like a strange cross between interested and bored. "You draw?"

"Sort of. It helps me fall asleep." He turns back to his breakfast, only vaguely registering Sam's mumbled response of '_You should get a new hobby_' and completely missing the way he's approaching the table. Sam's next comment, however, is impossible to dismiss.

"You miss her."

Steve's head snaps up at that and Sam gestures vaguely towards the table. "I didn't mean to pry but…"

But the sketches he made the previous night are clearly visible on the table, and it's not a wild leap to guess the growing pile inside the sketch book will also be featuring the same subject. Steve can feel the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Hey man, that's fine." Sam's gaze drifts back to the drawings as he continues. "It's kinda cute actually." He looks back at his friend and there's no denying the amusement in his eyes. "Still, you might wanna ease her into it or she might freak out. She will tease you about it to no end, that's for sure."

"I doubt that's gonna be a problem in the foreseeable future."

"Oh." Sam looks at the paper he's still clutching in his hand before looking back at Steve. "Did I forget to mention that I got a message from her?" He laughs loudly as Steve's head snaps up suddenly, and he's so distracted that he completely misses him moving until the paper is snatched right out of his hand. Damn super soldiers and their super speed.

"She's coming to meet us." Steve is aware that his voice sounds incredibly hopeful, so he's not surprised when Sam snorts out a barely concealed laughter.

"Well, technically we're supposed to be meeting up with her but… yeah, that's the general idea. So you might wanna clean up and get packing, cause we need to start moving if we're gonna get there on time."

Steve is aware of Sam's continuous chatter about travel plans and how long it'll take to get them where they're going but he mostly drowns him out. If everything goes as it's supposed to, tonight the three of them will be having dinner together.

And he's pretty sure he'll finally be able to sleep again.


	3. Wearing Your Clothes

Day 3:_ Wearing your clothes_

The first time it happens it's completely unintentional.

Natasha slowly rises from the couch, silently cursing against the world in general and Clint Barton in particular. She knows the scowl on her face is more than conveying the sentiment even without the actual words.

It's not that she doesn't want to go with him on a food run, or that she doesn't relish the opportunity to just do something and be active. It's just that she was feeling particularly comfy snuggled up on the couch, watching something dumb on TV and just enjoying the warmth coming off of Steve sitting next to her. Plus, there's also the fact that it's freezing cold outside.

She drags her feet across the room, pretending to ignore both Clint's grunts telling her to haul ass and Tony's whines about wanting Chinese when they had already decided on getting Thai, and momentarily debates running up to her floor to get another jacket – it'd keep her warmer and further annoy the two of them. Bonus.

But as the bickering between the two men – she scoffs in her head at the word – continues to increase, she changes plans. Heading straight to the door, she grabs Steve's hoodie from the back of a chair and pulls it over her head in one swift motion, reaching Clint's side and leaning against the door frame with a sweet smile.

"Are you coming?"

Clint eyes her thoroughly before giving her a smirk. "Feeling cozy?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him.

"That thing looks like a dress on you Tasha."

The eyebrow rises slightly and the casual observer would totally miss the barely there smile before she fires back. "My thanks to the fashion police."

"I'm serious. You don't even need any pants with that…" Whatever the rest of that sentence was going to be, it was lost as Tony let out a loud whistle, quickly followed by a startled yelp as a letter opener embedded itself against the counter, two inches left from his right hand.

Clint moves quickly towards the door, pushing Natasha in front of him and mumbling something about her not knowing how to take a compliment, before pulling on his own coat and following her out. She just shrugs and looks back over her shoulder, giving Tony a sweet smile before continuing to walk.

She pretends not to notice the way Steve's head had snapped up at Clint's comment, looking around the room before letting his gaze land on her. She pretends not to notice him shooting daggers at Tony after the whistle, or the way his eyes had quickly settled back on her, his mouth slightly parted.

But once she enters the elevator there is no pretending he isn't now casually leaning against that same door frame where she had stood just seconds ago, his blue eyes dark as they almost seem to caress every inch of her body.

She can't help it and gives him a small wink before the elevator doors start closing. "Don't worry soldier. I promise I'll return it."

She has to admit she's slightly surprised when she sees him wearing that same hoodie again only two days later. And maybe she's projecting, but she can almost swear she can still smell faint traces of her perfume on it.

The second time it happens it's a necessity.

They're walking towards his apartment in Brooklyn to discuss the finer details of a new mission in peace and quiet when it starts raining. The downpour lasts exactly long enough that they're both soaking wet once they reach his home and being the gentleman he is, he obviously offers her some dry clothes to change into.

It's such a romantic comedy cliché that Natasha would be cringing if she wasn't having so much fun. Because as she walks into his room to change, the damned hoodie is there.

And Natasha is not one to pass up an opportunity.

She can hear him moving about the living room, probably straightening up some stuff so they'll have room to work. It's not the first time they've done this and they're way past being formal with each other.

Still, she wonders if this might be taking things too far, if she's stretching that proverbial line in the sand so much she might actually be erasing it. She has become quite comfortable with teasing him, and he seems to finally be learning how to tease her back – well, he's trying at least. She supposes she has to give him points for effort.

She shakes her head softly, almost as if she's trying to physically dismiss those thoughts. Steve may be a sweet guy and her friend, but he's also a man. One who wasn't very good at hiding how much he liked seeing her in his clothes. One who left said clothes hanging about, knowing she'd see it.

He couldn't possibly think she'd let it sly by.

With her confidence restored, she changes as quickly as possible and steps out into the living room. There's a moment of silence as he continues putting things away before turning towards her, his mouth open to say something. And he stops.

Freezes would be more the right word, Natasha muses, as he has seemingly stopped breathing. The only thing giving him away are his eyes, slowly moving over her hoodie clad figure. Her hoodie-only clad figure.

Well, they did say it looked like a dress.

The third time it happens is casual, even if she hasn't really anticipated his reaction in full.

They are still on the early stages of this – this new thing between them, where they aren't really in a relationship yet but they aren't just fucking either. Natasha was never one to bother with labels but she has to admit she's glad they are keeping this just between them at the moment. How do you explain something to someone else when you don't know what it is yourself?

One thing she does know is that she's giving herself a headache with this thinking.

She groans as she rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom. Steve's still dead to the world, his massive frame spread out across the bed, looking entirely too tempting for anyone's sake. She knows that if she doesn't head out to her own room soon, there's no way this little thing between them is staying just between them.

She walks back into the room and grabs Steve's shirt from the floor, pulling it around her. She knows it's missing a few buttons, courtesy of her own eagerness last night, but the damn thing is big enough to cover her somewhat modestly until she can get properly dressed. Part of her still wishes Steve hadn't torn her dress in half in his haste to get her out of it but there are other parts of her that vehemently disagree.

That thing was so last season anyway.

She sees something moving out of the corner of her eye and is quick to react but he's obviously quicker and has her pressed up against the wall in a second. His body envelops hers and he has a massive thigh pushed up right against her core – which is still very much unclothed as she hasn't really had the time to go hunting for her panties just yet.

She looks up to a pair of sparkling blue eyes, quickly darkening with desire and so much want, and valiantly tries to keep her mind on track. His next words don't exactly help though.

"You look so good wearing my clothes."

Any thoughts she might have had of going back to her room are blown to pieces by those words. Still, the idea is right but she wants more. "I look good?" She practically spats the word at him but the smirk is there and so is the slight raise to her brow, so he knows she's only teasing. Still, he's nothing if not a perfectionist.

"You look… sexy." There's a kiss to her throat that has her head falling backwards, her teeth biting into her lip as he softly nips at the skin. "Enticing." His hands move away from the wall, slanting over her hips before starting an agonizingly slow journey up her sides, pushing the shirt upwards and touching skin. "Hot." He moves his leg further to rub against her and before she can stop herself she lets out a moan. It's deep and loud and it's all he needs to hear. He brings his hands to her thighs, pulling her up and wrapping her legs around his waist, and Natasha's concerns about making it to her room before anyone else wakes vanish into oblivion.

Nothing else matters in this moment but him. Nothing else exists but them.

Still, there's one thing she needs to make clear to him. "I'm not giving you this one back."

She loses count of how many times it happens.

It becomes something that she does, something familiar and cozy, something that soothes her after rough days and makes her feel like she belongs. He certainly doesn't seem to mind.

"Do you mind that I wear your clothes?"

He's so obviously caught off guard by the question that she can't help but laugh at the look on his face. "Relax soldier." She runs a soothing hand over his jaw. "I'm not planning to stop."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. "That's good to know."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me I look good in them."

He blushes slightly before pulling her more firmly against his him. "Can I ask what brought this on?"

Natasha shrugs and immediately feels Steve's arms tightening around her, his hand gently curving around her neck and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. His gaze is soft and warm, and there's a longing there she can't quite decipher.

"Nat, I know you´re probably not ready to hear this and I know it's corny and old-fashioned but…" He sighs, running a hand through her copper hair, keeping her gaze steady on him. "I gave you my heart a long time ago. Why would I mind you wearing my clothes?"

"Cap, watch out!"

Even as Tony shouts out the warning and sees Steve turn around, he knows it's too late. The alien is headed straight at him and the rest of the group is too far away to do anything. Steve's shield is still embedded into a wall, where it landed after slicing neatly through three other attackers. There is nothing standing between Captain America and a giant ten feet purplish slug coming at him full speed.

Well, nothing except a hand gun apparently.

The whole group stares in awe as Steve Rogers looks around for his shield and, finding it gone, reaches inside his suit – who knew that thing had pockets? - takes out a gun and shots the alien right in the center of the smooshy thing that passes as its heart. Kill shot. Alien down.

"What's Cap doing with Tasha's gun?" There is a look of bewilderment on Clint's face as he clearly recognizes the hand gun as the one he had gifted her during her first year as a SHIELD agent. He's pretty sure he has never seen that gun anywhere else but Natasha's thigh holster.

Bruce's voice is equally as astonished. "I think the bigger question is, what's Cap doing with Natasha?"

They all blatantly stare as Natasha makes her way down the street, cautiously avoiding the pools of green goo lining the sidewalks as she approaches Steve. They are too far away for any of them to hear what they are saying, but they can see something glinting against the backdrop of fading sunlight. Something that looks oddly familiar and yet strangely displaced.

Steve's right hand is still clutching the gun as he lifts his left to wrap around the dog tags hanging on her neck and uses them to pull her into a kiss.


	4. Take My Hand

Day 4: _Take my hand_

"Do I need to hold your hand while you do it?"

Steve rolled his eyes in sheer exasperation. Over to his left Tony kept a surprisingly serious face as he threw in his two cents. "I'll pay you if you let me watch."

"Hey, I'm no billionaire but if you let me record it I'll double the pay." Great. Stuff was definitely getting interesting if even Banner was piping in.

Steve looked to the side towards Clint, who had a look of vague amusement at the proceedings. "Something you wanna add?"

Clint just smirked in response. "Nah, you seem to be digging up that hole just fine by yourself."

Natasha was still staring at him waiting for an answer, looking slightly torn between being annoyed at all the interruptions and amused at seeing him under fire.

"I'm serious. If you need me to, I will. I'd never leave an elderly man out to dry." She was more than able to keep up a straight face throughout her tirade, earning an undignified snort from Sam.

"On her behalf I'll say this. She's a great wingman."

"I'm sure your wife would love to hear that." Clint had the good sense of looking mildly offended at Tony.

"I'm not saying I took advantage of that particular skill. And I'd appreciate it if you could keep my wife from ever hearing about this conversation." He nodded his head towards Steve. "Even if she would get a kick out of it."

Steve looked back at Natasha, tuning out the parallel conversation developing in the background, and narrowed his eyes at her. She was once again trying to set him up on a date and had been suggesting names at him for the better part of the last two hours, looking more and more put out when he kept shooting them down. To make matters worse – or more helpful, as she had put it, even if the twinkle in her eyes said differently – the rest of the team had since trickled down into the common room and were more than happy to join the party.

A _let's get Steve laid_ party as it seemed. Maybe he should rethink his whole team bonding speech, if this was the best they could come up with.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he decided to go straight to the source and attack the cause of all current evils. "Would it be too much to ask for you to leave my dating life alone?" He cringed as he said it, knowing exactly what her come back would be.

"Leaving your dating life alone would require you actually having one." She spread out her arms to encompass the whole room. "Hence this." There. Good one Stevie. When you think you've reached the bottom there's always someone there with a shovel. Usually yourself.

"I'm perfectly capable of finding a date on my own." Someone snorted again and Steve looked sharply in that vague direction. "That is, if I wanted to." He narrowed his eyes for emphasis.

"No offense man, but as far as I can tell you got zero game. Absolutely none." Brilliant. Even Sam didn't have faith in him.

"Are you taking their side?" Steve looked affronted at the thought, but it seemed to fail the desired effect as Sam just shrugged, so he decided to further defend his point. "I just don't like the idea of going out to dinner with someone whom I've just met. I mean, what are we even gonna talk about?"

There was no snorting this time as the whole room erupted in chaos. Even Natasha had lost some of her composure, letting out a sharp laugh. Steve sighed as his ears turned pink.

"That's the whole point Cap!"

"You have to start somewhere to get to know someone."

"Yeah, you have to get in there."

"How're gonna do this unless you talk to them?"

"You should be worried about after dinner, not before."

They were all talking at the same time, apparently believing their tips were the only thing standing between himself and a long night in the company of the fairer sex, making it almost impossible to discern who was saying what. Except for that last comment, that was definitely Tony.

"It doesn't have to be dinner you know." He turned back towards Natasha, who was now looking at him with a puzzled look. She leaned forward on her chair and reached across to him to lay a casual hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You can start out slow, take her out for coffee or something. Then, if it clicks, you can move on ahead."

"That's actually not bad advice." He looked at the others with a scowl before turning back to her. "Unlike some others I've heard."

"Pro tip. Free of charge." She was teasing him again. The sparkle was back in her eyes and there was a flirtatious grin on her lips as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. He tried to swallow the lump that suddenly lodged in his throat. If he was looking for a chance, this just might be it.

"Fine. You win." The sudden silence and confused stares suddenly filling the room were almost enough to make this whole damn thing worth it.

"I'm sorry, what?" As usual, Tony was the first one to snap out of it, giving him an incredulous look. "I know you've got dibs on the old man routine but I think my ears are failing me right now."

"I said I'll do it. I'll ask someone out to coffee. See how that goes." Again, his statement was met with a stunned silence. If he had known this was all it took to get them to shut up he'd have done it two hours ago.

Natasha was looking at him with a stone cold gaze, even if her face was as impassive as always. Almost as if she didn't believe him. Almost as if she didn't _want_ to believe him. He kept his eyes level with hers, even if he couldn't help the barest hint of a smile. She might have been a professional at this game, but he hadn't been her partner for a while now without picking up on some things.

Like the slight disappointment lurking in her green eyes. One you could easily miss if you weren't really looking. Only he had. He had been looking for a long time now.

"Care to share with the audience who the lucky lady might be?"

Another snort could be heard coming from Tony's corner. "Lucky? She'll be lucky if he doesn't explode right there if she agrees."

Steve ignored him. He had more pressing matters to attend. Matters he needed to get right. "Nat, would you like to have coffee with me?"

"Aw, come on man! That's a cop out if I ever heard one." Tony turned around and headed towards the kitchen, mumbling something about how he knew he wouldn't have the balls to do it and obviously done with the whole thing, pausing only when he caught Sam still staring at the unfolding scene.

Bruce seemed to be rooted to his spot and Clint was looking on as well with a faint smile as he replied with a shrug. "I don't think it is."

Natasha was staring at him with a guarded look in her eyes, obviously trying to read him and Steve decided to make it easier on her. Standing up from his seat, he walked the two steps to her chair and reached his hand towards her in the most non-threatening manner possible, palm up. "How about it Romanoff?"

He smiled at her and soon enough she was smiling back, something infinitely soft and very unlike her usual smirks. Something he hoped he'd see a lot more of.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up, before he began walking them towards the door. On a whim, he laced their fingers together. The small touch felt intimate and full of promise and if possible, her smile seemed to grow even more.

And as they reached the elevator doors he couldn't help throwing a crooked smirk towards the rest of the room. "Don't wait up."


	5. The World Moves On But We're Forever

Day 5: _The world moves on but we're forever_

Her reaction was instantaneous upon hearing the noise.

"Twitch and I'll be washing grey matter off the walls." The gun was steadily pointed towards the intruder, even if her hands shook the slightest bit. She could barely remember the last time she had slept.

He froze. "Nat, it's me. It's just me." Steve's soft voice was what took her finger off the trigger and she sighed as she lowered her weapon. He was looking at her in concern before slowly lowering his raised hands and eyeing her carefully as she replaced the gun to its usual place at the bedside table, next to his dog tags.

Shuri – no, queen Shuri now, he reminded himself – had wanted to talk to him and Natasha had left them earlier to get some sleep, even if the haunted look in her eyes left no doubt that she had been struggling with it.

He approached the bed and Natasha watched him carefully, noticing how his initial defensive posture was shed, giving way to something completely different. That haunted and defeated look he had been wearing since… well, since.

It had been barely a day since Thanos had snapped the fingers of that cursed glove and wiped out half the world, a mere twenty four hours after their world had irrevocably changed for the worse. Hours spent mourning the dead, since there was nothing left to bury. There had been attempts to collect some of the ashes of fallen loved ones, but the initial shock had felt like a tidal wave and by the time it processed most of it had scattered in the wind, leaving the ones behind with less than nothing to show for all the love that had been lost.

After the initial pain had subsided to a gut-wrenching feeling of loss, once the screams of agony had quieted down into subdued sobs, the world had finally seemed to settle into an eerie silence.

Thor had already left Earth, gone in search for Tony, taking the weird looking raccoon with him. They were hoping Iron Man could help, hoping he wasn't yet another one they had lost. Bruce had been shown Shuri's lab and was supposedly there, trying to come up with answers, a solution for an unsolvable problem. No one would fault him if all he wanted was to be left alone for the time being.

Both Steve and Natasha had allowed themselves this small reprieve. One day to mourn, one day to grieve. It seemed such an insignificant amount of time compared to the magnitude of all they had lost and yet, it was all they could spare.

"I'm sorry I startled you." He was whispering as he sat at the edge of the bed and soothingly ran a hand through her hair. She had taken a bath, trying to wash away all the grime and sweat from battle – all of the grief – and had changed into one of his shirts. The sight had become as familiar and comforting as Bucky telling him…

_Bucky._

_Sam._

_Wanda._

_Vision._

He visibly shook as the memories came flooding back, a thousand moments shared, the laughs and the struggles and the battles, all wiped out in a second as if they had meant nothing. He was suddenly sick to his stomach and out of breath, and felt the dam he had managed to place around those emotions come dangerously close to shattering.

Natasha rose from the bed in a heartbeat, placing a hand on his chin and forcing him to look at her. "Steve!" His name sounded loud enough in the quiet room that he startled, but it had the desired effect. She tried again, bringing her voice down to a soothing whisper. "It's okay."

He seemed to snap out of it as he took a great gulp of air before slowly nodding his head at her. "Yeah, I'm…" He swallowed before continuing. "I'm gonna go wash up."

When he made his way back into the room she was lying back down, seemingly asleep, and he paused as he looked at her. That first meeting on the helicarrier seemed like a life time ago, something unremarkable amidst all that was happening at the time, except for the fact it had somehow thrown them together. It certainly had taken them long enough to get here.

Months of working SHIELD missions together had forged their unique partnership, but it had only been after its downfall – when they had been forced to rely and depend on each other – that Steve had allowed himself to fully trust her. A trust that had yet to be broken, coupled with everything else he now felt for her. Everything he had been feeling for a long time now.

He allowed himself a small smile as he remembered the day they had found each other again, after the Accords had brought everything crashing down on them. Asking her to run away with him – even if he only half meant those words back then – had been one of the smartest decisions in his life. Bucky had been so proud, even if he and Sam had teased the hell out of him, once Nat told them the story.

Steve moved quietly as he crept into bed and laid down next to her, staring off into space. The urge to come nearer, to pull her closer and feel her warmth seeping into his bones was immediate but he didn't act on it.

Instead she did, apparently forgoing sleep in favor of drawing herself as close as possible and placing a hand over his heart. Feeling the steady beat underneath her fingers, the reassuring thump further proving that this was real.

He wrapped his arms around her and let out a deep sigh at the feeling. "We should get some rest."

She sifted slightly, burying her face in his neck. "Don't wanna."

"Nat…"

"I'm scared." The quiet admission made him sit up, pulling her body along with his. Cradling her head, he looked down at her with a concerned gaze, prodding her to continue. "I'm afraid that if I go to sleep I'll wake up and realize that…" Her eyes watered as she hesitated. "I'm afraid I'll realize I lost you too."

"God, Nat…" He didn't finish the thought. Instead he kissed her, letting out all his rage and anger and frustration. All the pain at what had happened and all the uncertainty about what was to come. He allowed all the passion he felt for her to rule the kiss, all the want and need and desire to bleed into it. All the love he felt for her.

They were both slightly breathless as they came apart, still close enough for Steve to lay his head against hers as he tried to calm his racing heart. "I never even thought about that. It never crossed my mind." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "I think my brain couldn't even come up with the notion that I could lose you. Both of you." He placed one hand against her belly as the other one tenderly touched her cheek and she closed her eyes momentarily, tilting her head so she could kiss his palm. "It's the one thing I wouldn't be able to come back from."

She brushed her lips against his in a soft caress. "You won't." Her voice was strong and steady, without a shadow of hesitation. "You're not losing us. You and me…" she paused to look down at her belly before locking their eyes together and brushing a hand softly through his beard "… and our little one, we're forever."

Her other hand came down to cover his still resting over her belly and laced their fingers together, settling back against him as he laid them both down on the bed. She didn't know if they'd be able to get any sleep but Steve was right. They needed rest. There was a lot of work to be done come morning.


End file.
